


Support System

by SMDarling



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky calls Steve's pecs "tits", Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mild Feminization, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Tit-fucking, Top Bucky Barnes, aka The Bra Fic on the CapReverseBB Slack, some comeplay, some nipple play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 21:17:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14065764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SMDarling/pseuds/SMDarling
Summary: Natasha is observant, and helpful.Bucky is also observant, although his first reaction isn'thelping.Steve is just along for the ride.(Natasha gets Steve sports bras, becausehave you seen him run???But really that's just an excuse for Bucky to finally, after seventy long years, fuck Steve's tits.)





	Support System

**Author's Note:**

> Also known as "the bra fic" in parts of the Cap ReverseBB Slack.
> 
> Warning for excessive use of the words "tits" and "titties". Also, Steve has a small thing for Bucky giving orders.
> 
> As ever, I'm on [Tumblr](http://smdarling.tumblr.com/), come say hi!

“Steve. We need to talk.”

For all Steve is still getting used to the 21st Century, he’s sure those words are _never_ a good sign. Coming from Natasha, he estimates they’re approximately 200% more intimidating than they would be from anyone else. Almost anyone, at least that he knows in this century. 

But last he checked, he wasn’t dating Natasha—

Oh God, _was he?_ Social norms changed so much, maybe she thought they were _dating_ and he’s been a _horrible_ boyfriend, but that’s because he didn’t know they were dating! Wait, does he want to date her? Does _she_ want to date _him??_

He’s pretty sure she has zero interest in him _that way_ , and if he had to define their relationship beyond “colleagues” and “teammates” he’d probably go with familial, if not sibling, but—

“Oh my God, stop panicking,” she says, interrupting his spiraling thoughts. 

“Uh.” Steve swallows loudly, then winces. Natasha glances over at him in the passenger seat of her carbon fiber Lambo and rolls her eyes. He kind of wishes she wouldn’t, since they’re speeding down a crowded highway at almost 100mph, weaving in and out of traffic. Then again, he’s one to talk. 

“Right. Sorry, just…” He trails off, uncertain where to go from there. 

“Steve, if I thought we were dating you would _know_ ,” she tells him, turning her head to face him and stare into his eyes. 

Steve chokes on his spit. 

“Oh my God,” Natasha says again, looking back to the road and jerking the wheel around a semi. “I have _standards_ , Steven.”

“Hey!” he says, still coughing. He wants to be offended, he really does, but honestly she has a point.

“There’s a water bottle in the back, if you think that’ll help,” Natasha says, and from the tone of her voice Steve knows _she_ doesn’t think water will help him _at all_.

He clears his throat a couple times and shakes his head. 

“M’fine,” he mumbles, avoiding her eyes. “What’d you wanna talk about?”

“I’ve seen you run,” she says, and Steve… Isn’t sure what that has to do with anything?

“I know you’re in pain,” she continues, and Steve is really lost now. 

“Um?”

She looks at him again, cutting across three lanes of traffic to the less crowded right lane and standing on the gas. 

“Um!” Steve repeats as they bear down on a motorcycle only going 20 above the speed limit. 

“Relax,” she drawls, deftly swerving to pass on the right shoulder. 

Steve takes a deep breath. 

“Sorry,” he says, “so, what exactly am I in pain from?”

She sighs heavily, as if his lack of her scary mind reading powers is the worst thing to ever happen to her. 

“Your tits,” she says finally, and Steve chokes _again_. 

“I can get the water for you,” she says, frowning at him, and he shakes his head vigorously. 

“Really, it’s no problem,” she continues, reaching for her seatbelt and Steve leaps into action, using his enhanced speed to get his off first and contort himself to reach into the back. Given his size and that he’s still coughing a little, he wonders if letting her get it while driving wouldn’t have been better after all. 

Gasping, he heaves himself back into his seat and yanks his seatbelt on. He uncaps the bottle and takes a long drink, clearing his throat and looking back at Natasha once he swallows. 

He’s not sure if she watched him the entire time, but he wouldn’t put it past her. 

“My _what_ now?” 

“Your tits,” she says, and focuses her stare on his chest. “Pecs, whatever.”

Steve crosses his arms uncomfortably. 

“They _bounce_ ,” she says, and he frowns, thinking back over his runs. And yeah, maybe Natasha has a point. His pecs do tend to get irritated when he runs, although he wouldn’t necessarily say they _hurt_ —

“You need _support_ ,” Natasha declares, and Steve blinks. He looks at her, relieved to see she’s focusing on the road again, but—

“What?”

“Support,” Natasha says as if that explains everything, and it really _really_ doesn’t. “If you want help, I’ll help you.”

Steve still has no idea what she’s talking about when she says “support” but it’s Natasha. She probably knows what she’s talking about.

*******Two Hours Later********

“No.” 

“Steven.”

_“No, Natasha.”_

“ _Yes_ Natasha,” Natasha says, dragging him into a fitting room, measuring tape in hand. “I’ll even let you stay in here while I get what you need, now shirt _off_.”

“No!” Steve protests again, hugging himself. “Absolutely not!”

“You asked for my help!” 

“I didn’t think you meant _this_!” 

“’This’?” Natasha mocks, “’ _this?_ ’ Steve, this is _a right of passage!_ ”

“For women!” Steve knows he’s made a mistake immediately. 

“Women?” Natasha repeats, narrowing her eyes. “ _Women?_ Steve, I thought SHIELD gave you sensitivity training. Do _I_ have to give you _my_ version?”

“No! No, sorry, I know that was incredibly sexist—”

“And transphobic and homophobic and—”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I just never considered _I_ would need a, um,” Steve trails off. 

“A bra, Steve. Say it.”

“A bra,” Steve repeats, blushing. Natasha raises an eyebrow, clearly judging him. 

“You do know what a bra _is_ , right?” she asks. “I mean, you _have_ seen one before?”

“Yes, dammit!” Steve is so sick of everyone thinking he’s naive and innocent, he can’t stop himself. “I’ve worn one before too!” 

It’s Natasha’s turn to be shocked into silence. 

Of course, she’s a lot smoother about it and recovers _much_ quicker.

“Oh?” she asks, slowly, oh so slowly smiling at him. Wider and wider and Steve wonders for a mad second if she’s going to start turning invisible, like the Cheshire Cat, with the amount of teeth she’s showing. 

_“Do tell.”_

“Wasn’t a big deal,” Steve insists, “just, the neighborhood Buc— _I_ lived in back in Brooklyn was very, uh, _liberal_. And I was so broke all the time, with me bein’ so sick an’ all, and drag queens serving at the local queer bar always made a pretty penny in tips, every night, and ol’ Mr. McKeeny, he knew my ma, came over on the same boat as her, didn’t mind if I came in whenever rent was short or somethin’ so long as I was feelin’ alright that night, and I had the build for it, y’know.”

He shrugs helplessly, miming ‘short’. 

Natasha’s smile finally stops growing. 

“The secret life of Captain America!” she says, delighted. “Oh, what the history books left out!”

“They left out _a lot,_ ” Steve says defensively, and she cackles. 

“I bet!” she says, still laughing. “So this shouldn’t be new to you!”

“Well,” Steve starts slowly, “bras _have_ changed a lot since then.”

“And so have you,” Natasha says, brandishing the measuring tape at him. “Shirt off, big boy!”

Steve complies. She’s got a point. 

The next time he goes for a run, he makes a detour to buy her Russian vodka-filled chocolates. 

******At some point in the future, just after Bucky comes home******

“Stevie?” Bucky calls, sticking his head out of their bedroom door. _Their bedroom,_ Steve thinks, smiling like the Cheshire Cat. 

“Yeah?” he calls back. Bucky’s moving his things in, unpacking what little he has into _their_ dresser and _their_ closet. 

“I have a question,” Bucky says, and Steve jumps to his feet. 

“What is it, Buck?” he says as he follows Bucky into their (!!!) bedroom. 

“Whose’re these?” Bucky asks, smirking and holding Steve’s sports bras up in his metal hand. 

“Mine,” Steve says after a brief moment of staring at the bras. 

“Yeah?” Bucky asks. “You been gettin’ back into the scene while I’ve been gone? Makin’ some extra money on the side?”

Steve laughs at that, shaking his head. 

“Nah, Buck, haven’t needed to this century.”

“Oh,” Bucky says. Steve registers disappointment. 

“You, uh, you want me to?” 

Bucky gives him A Look. 

“You certainly have the tits for it better than you used to,” Bucky says, and Steve’s face _burns_. He tries to sputter a reply, but Bucky continues. “So wait, if you’re not gettin’ all dressed up, _why_ do you have these?”

Steve winces, because he was about to protest he doesn’t have _tits_ , thank you very much, but really, considering why he owns sports bras… that argument doesn’t exactly hold its weight. 

“Uhhhh,” he says, trying to stall, but Bucky just raises an inquisitive eyebrow at him. “For support?”

“Support?” Bucky repeats, frowning. 

“Something Natasha showed me,” Steve says, and Bucky’s other eyebrow goes up. “Like, for when I run or train. It helps.”

Bucky focuses on Steve’s chest, smirk slowly coming back. “ _Helps?_ ”

“Helps,” Steve confirms, nodding and fighting the urge to cross his arms. 

“How so?”

“Y’know,” Steve says, then sighs and bounces on his toes. His pecs jiggle and jump visibly under his tight t-shirt, until he winces and stops moving. “See?”

“ _Yeah_ I see,” Bucky says, leering at him. “I kinda wanna see more.”

“Bucky?” Steve asks, unsure and self conscious. 

“Yeah, Stevie,” Bucky says, dropping the sports bras. “I never got much chance to _really_ check out the goods, if y’know what I mean.” He stalks toward Steve. 

“ _My_ goods?” Steve asks. Bucky nods. 

“We might’ve got up to a fair bit during the war, but I never had the opportunity to just play with the pair the serum gave you. It was my last thought when I fell, ‘damn, I regret never just playin’ with Stevie’s tits’,” Bucky says, standing in front of Steve and placing his hands on Steve’s hips.

“Bucky!” Steve screeches, and Bucky finally looks up from his chest. 

“Too soon?” 

“ _Jesus, Bucky!_ ” Steve says, caught between offense and hilarity. 

“Cuz really, I was thinkin’ this is probably long overdue,” Bucky says, sliding his hands up under Steve’s shirt, making Steve shiver. 

“Yeah, probably,” Steve says, leaning into Bucky’s touch as his hands stroke up Steve’s abs. “Just wonderin’ when you had the time to catch up on memes.”

“The Winter Soldier had to learn a lotta languages, Stevie,” Bucky tells him seriously, staring into his eyes. “And memes are a language all their own.” 

Steve laughs, and Bucky grins, leaning in as his hands reach the underside of Steve’s pecs. 

“Now, you gonna let me Stevie? Gonna let me play with your perfect titties?” he asks, breath ghosting over Steve’s lips. 

“Sure, Buck,” Steve says, eyes darkening. “Whatever you want.”

“Oh baby,” Bucky says, brushing their lips together, “what _don’t_ I want?” He squeezes both Steve’s pecs, then abruptly pulls back. 

Steve’s shirt, straining before the addition of Bucky’s hands, rips down the center as Bucky yanks his arms directly away from Steve’s body. 

Steve’s knees buckle, and he catches himself on Bucky’s shoulders. 

“Damn,” he swears, “ _definitely_ whatever you want,” and kisses Bucky hard. He can feel Bucky still grinning, and Bucky ripping the rest of the ruined shirt off Steve, backing toward their (!!!) bed. 

Steve follows, pushing his bare chest against Bucky, his tongue in Bucky’s mouth, until they collapse together.

Bucky grunts under Steve’s weight, and their kiss breaks. 

“C’mon doll,” he says, “I want you on your back for me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, and rolls over Bucky, squirming to lay in the center of the bed at the same time he’s opening his pants and shoving them down past his hips. 

“Eager much?” Bucky asks with a wicked grin, standing to pull his own clothes off. 

“Been too long Barnes, way too long,” Steve says, sitting up and reaching for Bucky. 

“Mmhmm,” Bucky murmurs, kicking his pants off and crawling up the bed, caging Steve in underneath him, between his legs. He lets his body rest against Steve’s, skin to skin, propping himself on his forearms and cradling Steve’s head in his hands as they kiss again. 

It’s wet and sloppy, quickly turning their lips red and shiny, full of teeth and tongue and shifting positions. Bucky grinds down against Steve, who pushes up in turn, their hard cocks sliding together for the first time in seventy years, and it’s _so good_. 

They get lost in making out and grinding on each other for a while, long enough Steve forgets what got them started, just reveling in having Bucky wrapped in his arms again. 

Bucky doesn’t forget, and presses his bare chest hard against Steve’s, sucking on Steve’s tongue, moving his flesh hand to stroke the side of Steve’s torso. He growls, deep in his throat, and pushes himself abruptly up to his knees. 

“Bucky?” Steve rasps, reaching for him, hips thrusting as Bucky settles his weight on them. 

“ _Damn_ , Stevie,” Bucky says, hands grabbing at Steve’s pecs, making Steve arch into the touch. “Can’t believe you got a rack like this, fuckin’ _obscene_.” 

“ _Bucky!_ ” Steve repeats, whining this time, writhing at Bucky’s words and the way he squeezes Steve’s chest, thumbs his nipples. 

“Makes me _feel_ obscene, y’know?” Bucky says thoughtfully, staring down at his hands, the way Steve’s skin bunches between his fingers. “Wanna _be_ obscene.”

“Anything,” Steve gasps, “anything you want, Buck.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, grinning down at Steve, who thrusts up helplessly against him, cock hard and slick in the crease of Bucky’s groin, next to his balls. “You mean that?” He twists Steve’s nipples viciously, between thumb and forefinger on each hand, one rough, calloused skin and the other cool, smooth metal driving Steve mad. 

Steve keens, tossing his head, and reaches for Bucky, going to put his hands over Bucky’s on his chest. As soon as his palms touch the back of Bucky’s hands, Bucky moves, twisting his wrists to grab Steve’s and pin them above his head. 

It brings his face closer to Steve’s, but he dodges Steve’s attempt at a kiss in favor of bringing his mouth down to Steve’s ear. 

“What I _want_ , Stevie,” he whispers, voice low, teeth scraping Steve’s earlobe as he speaks, “is to fuck your big, perfect titties. Can I?” 

“Oh God,” Steve says, eyes wide but unseeing as he imagines it. Bucky over him, hard cock on his chest, between his pecs— no, his _tits_ — leaking, getting them all wet with precome, until he _comes all over them_ — “oh God!” 

Steve’s cock jerks, his hips driving up against Bucky, balls tightening, and before he even knows what’s happening he’s coming all over both of them at just the idea. 

Bucky groans, long and loud in his ear, grinding down into Steve’s mess. “I’m taking that as a _yes_ ,” he growls, before finally pushing himself back up. “Keep your hands there,” he orders, and Steve, stunned from his unexpected orgasm, obeys. 

“ _Fuuuck_ ,” Bucky moans, kneeling up, looking at Steve sprawled out, come sticky on his belly, cock still hard and red between his legs. Tits big and round, nipples pink and perky. 

He places his hands on Steve’s hipbones, fingers splayed wide, curving around his sides, thumbs smooth along his Adonis lines, framing his cock. “You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, Stevie,” he swears. “Gonna kill me, I swear.”

“Don’t say that, Buck,” Steve murmurs, staring up at Bucky. He’s quiet, winded from his orgasm, blown away by the vision Bucky makes towering above him. Wild, hair long and loose, eyes black with lust, lips plush and wet, strong muscled body shining with sweat. He’s an angel, Steve just can’t see his wings.

He reaches up without thinking, going to feel around Bucky’s shoulders, his back, because _surely_ —

“What’d I say?” Bucky reminds him, grinning ferally. “ _Keep your hands where I put ‘em!_ ” Steve slams his hands back to the bed. 

“Yes sir!” he says, focusing on Bucky’s face again, pulse throbbing in his cock. Bucky notices because of course he does. 

“Like that?” he asks. “When I order you around, Stevie?” 

Steve sucks in air through his nose, shifting his hips, feeling precome drip from the slit of his cock. 

“Answer me, Stevie!” Bucky snaps. 

“Yes!” Steve tries to thrust up, seeking friction even though there’s none to find, but Bucky’s hands hold him down. 

“Gonna remember that for later,” Bucky promises, then runs his hands hard up Steve’s body, fingers and palms digging in rough against his abs, his ribs, as Bucky scoops up his come. 

“What’re you—?” Steve starts. Bucky winks, and Steve realizes, _stupid question_. 

Of course. 

As Bucky’s hands finally reach Steve’s chest, he immediately smears Steve’s release around his pecs, rubbing it into the soft skin, paying special attention to the crease, Steve’s _cleavage_ , slicking it up for himself. 

He shuffles up the bed, tucking his knees under Steve’s armpits, thighs clamped tight against Steve’s ribs. 

“This is okay, right Stevie?” he asks, hovering. 

From this angle, most of Steve’s field of vision is now Bucky— Bucky’s chest, his navel, his strong, muscled flesh arm and the smooth, interlocking plates of his metal one down to where he’s resting his hands on Steve’s chest, and finally _his cock_ , thick and wet and red and painfully hard. He still looks like an angel. 

Steve licks his lips, mouth watering, inhaling through his nose, the potent scent of Bucky’s arousal so close— not close enough— making his eyes roll. He leans up, straining, still not moving his arms. He can’t quite reach, not as much as he would like, but if he sticks his tongue out as far as he can—

They both moan when Steve licks a small stripe up the underside of Bucky’s throbbing cock. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Bucky swears, “Stevie, okay, I’m taking that as a yes.” 

“Yes, Buck,” Steve says, just to make sure Bucky _knows_ he’s sure, before leaning back.

Bucky smooths his hands back out over Steve’s tits, palms heavy over pebbled nipples as he goes, making Steve gasp and arch. He brings his legs in tighter, thighs pushing up against Steve’s sides until his pecs bulge. 

Bucky lifts his metal hand to his cock, giving himself a couple brisk strokes, the sight making Steve’s breath catch in his throat, before he lowers it carefully to press between Steve’s tits, holding it down. 

He gives a short thrust, cock hot on Steve’s skin, and groans. “ _Goddamn_ , Stevie, your titties are perfect babydoll. Perfect—” another thrust— “for—” one more— “me!” Bucky throws his head back, starting to work up a rhythm of hard, small thrusts between Steve’s pecs.

Steve nearly goes cross-eyed looking down at himself, then nearly swallows his tongue.

His pecs really do look like tits, bulging up on either side of Bucky’s cock, streaked white with his own come. And Bucky’s cock, pushing between them, cockhead red and shiny, slit leaking pearly fluid. 

He tenses purposefully, flexing, and Bucky’s hips stutter, his head falling forward to stare down at Steve, eyes wide. 

“Do that again!” he orders, and Steve does, first one, then the other, then both at once, massaging Bucky’s cock with his tits just by flexing them. 

Bucky growls, fucking his tits faster, putting more weight on Steve’s chest, but he can _take it_ now, and brings both hands back to Steve’s nipples, scratching with his right while pinching with the left. 

“Fuck!” Steve swears, his own hips getting back into the game even though there’s nothing for him to thrust against, no friction for his aching, neglected cock. “Bucky!” 

“Yeah, Stevie?” Bucky says. “You like that? Like me playin’ with your little nipples? You’re real sensitive here, aren’t ya doll?” He pulls both of Steve’s nipples as far as he can, then smooths both palms over them, groping the bulge of Steve’s pecs, holding them tight against his cock as he fucks into Steve’s cleavage at a steady pace. “What about me fuckin’ your perfect titties, huh? You like _that?_ ” 

“Bucky!” Steve says, trying to push up into Bucky, but Bucky’s full weight is on him and he can’t move, he’s lucky he can _breathe_ , but even if he couldn’t, Bucky above him, on him— “I love it, Bucky, I love _you_ , fuck—”

“I am, baby, _I am_ ,” Bucky says, thrusts speeding up, becoming more erratic. Steve can feel Bucky’s balls drawing up where they rub at the base of his ribcage. 

Steve looks back to the tip of Bucky’s cock, precome pouring out of him like a faucet, and he can’t help himself— he’s a man dying of thirst, lost in the desert, or at least he has been for the last seventy years without Bucky, and his oasis is finally within reach—

He lunges up again, almost _almost_ unseating Bucky, would have if not for Bucky’s Winter Soldier skills, and engulfs Bucky’s swollen cockhead in his mouth, sucking hard. 

Bucky’s metal hand curls around Steve’s skull, fingers tangling in Steve’s hair as his torso bends over Steve, hips juddering forward. Somehow, Steve still doesn’t move his hands. 

“No,” Bucky gasps, “no, I wanna—” It must take all his self control to pull Steve off his cock, to pull away, take himself in his right fist, but he does, kneeling up over Steve, and finally comes, painting Steve’s chest and face with the white hot ropes. 

“Fuck! _Fuck_ , fuckfuckfuck, Stevie!” Bucky swears, metal hand pulling painfully in Steve’s hair but Steve doesn’t care. He just opens his mouth, sticking his tongue out, grinning up at Bucky, trying to catch some— _any_ — of Bucky’s release. His own cock twitches and jerks, hips writhing on the bed, desperate for— yet completely deprived of— stimulation. 

“ _Christ,_ ” Bucky says, panting, milking a final, thick string of come out of himself before collapsing sideways.

Steve rolls toward him, covered in a combination of their messes, whining. Bucky smirks. 

“Stevie,” he whispers, voice husky. He lets go of Steve’s hair. “ _Come for me._ ”

Even despite the low timbre of Bucky’s voice, there’s no mistaking the words for anything other than an order. Bucky wraps his metal fist around Steve’s red, throbbing cock, squeezing just this side of _rough_ , and Steve’s second orgasm hits him like a freight train. 

_Too soon._

The world goes fuzzy for a while after that. 

******************************

When Steve gets his bearings, he’s no longer covered in drying semen which is a very nice surprise. It’s fun in the moment, but a couple moments after the moment is over, it’s just gross. 

“Hey, Stevie,” Bucky says. Steve rolls his head, looking at Bucky who’s laying next to him, grinning. 

“Heeeey,” Steve says, drawing the word out. His head still feels a little swimmy. “Didja have fun?”

“Oh yeah, babydoll,” Bucky says, scooting over so he can nuzzle the side of Steve’s face. “You got the greatest rack in all’a Brooklyn, baby.”

“Nuh-uh,” Steve protests. 

“Oh really?” Bucky asks, mouth hot along Steve’s jaw. “If _not_ you, Stevie, please tell me, whose tits are better?”

“ _Yours_ ,” Steve declares emphatically, and Bucky freezes. He pulls back slowly, pushing himself up on his elbow to look down at Steve, then himself, then back at Steve. 

“Mine?”

“Yours,” Steve repeats, pushing himself up to mirror Bucky. “Seriously, have you even _looked_ at yourself since you got back? You definitely didn’t look like this way back in Brooklyn, or during the war, hell I don’t think you looked like this on the helicarriers! But you’ve _bulked up_ quite a bit since, y’know.” He shrugs. 

“Since _what_?” Bucky prompts.

“Since you came home,” Steve says, blushing and looking at the sheets as he picks at a loose thread. 

“Stevie…”

Steve is silent. 

“You know I’m here to stay, right?” 

“Yeah.”

Bucky leans back into Steve’s space, making him look up, and kisses him, slow and sweet and deep. 

“So,” Bucky says when they finally break apart, chasing the taste of Steve off his lips with his tongue. “What was that you were sayin’ about _my_ tits?” 

Steve’s cheeks burn bright red again, but he doesn’t break eye contact this time.

“Yeah, Buck,” he says. “You’ve got a helluva rack yourself, now. Better’n even me, I think. You could probably even use some _support_ —” he nods pointedly toward their (!!!) dresser— “yourself, now, during running or training or whatever.” 

Bucky raises an eyebrow, lowers his head to examine his own chest, slowly lifts his head up to look back at Steve, and _smirks_. 

Steve’s pulse thuds in his chest and between his legs. 

“So, _Stevie_ ,” Bucky says, “besides dressin’ ‘em up, anything else you wanna do?”

“Uh,” Steve asks ineloquently, as if he needs to ask at all. 

Bucky shrugs, still smirking, and leans in, breath hot in Steve’s ear. “I dunno, Stevie. Maybe…” He trails off, just breathing, drawing out the moment, making Steve shiver. 

“Whatever you want, Buck,” Steve says softly. 

“Fuck _my_ titties?”

**Author's Note:**

> I started this for Kinktober day whatever, tittyfucking, and then Life, and then in the CapRBB Slack we started talking about Steve's pecs while I was working on a FTH fic and I thought about this again and ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> If you wanna, like and/or reblog this [here](http://smdarling.tumblr.com/post/172165140970/support-system-smdarling-marvel-cinematic)!! Hearts and butterflies ~~Darling
> 
> (Special shoutout to all y'all sprinters who sprinted with me as I finished this, and posted this, and encouraged me, <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3 you are my favorite Support System) (the title is a happy coincidence, I did not choose it to make that joke, I promise, that was the original title when I first started writing this)


End file.
